


Promotions with Hidden Benefits

by charlotte123456789



Series: Harry Potter One-Shots [31]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Broken Family, Gen, Hurt, Jobs, Leaving, Malfoys Don't Show Weakness, Promotions, Success
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29379837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlotte123456789/pseuds/charlotte123456789
Summary: A promotion should be a cause for celebration. Shouldn't it?
Series: Harry Potter One-Shots [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2157993
Kudos: 1





	Promotions with Hidden Benefits

He walked out with his head held high as people shouted their congratulations to him. He nodded politely at each person, even though inside he was jumping with joy.

He was now the youngest person ever to be promoted to head Potions Master. 

He had known at school that he was good but at _Ruben's Potions Supplies_ he had really flourished. Professional tutelage and useful feedback on every aspect of where he was in the wrong when brewing had been a blessing. It gave him something to work towards and improve. It was hard work but he loved it.

All the work had paid off and he had been named head Potions Master, for not only his division but _two_ others as well. He had never expected this but he was overjoyed.

He continued the long walk out the building with only one destination in mind. 

Malfoy Manor, he had to inform his Mother of this immediately.

* * *

He floo'd in and made his way directly to the study.

It had once belonged to his father but after the war and subsequent imprisonment, his mother had taken it over and made it hers.

He knocked twice on the door and waited until her melodious voice reached his ears.

“Enter.”

He pushed open the door. Every time he entered he was always taken aback by the new look of the office. When his mother had taken it over she hadn't just moved all her things in but had changed the whole room. No longer were the walls a deep green colour with large familial paintings hung on them to display their rich personal history.

No, his mother had redecorated every inch of the room.

She had repainted the walls a glaring peach colour. It was a shocking effect that didn't work with the room - it was the first thing that everybody saw when walking in, and it was the first thing that everybody had to hold their tongue on commenting about. Draco himself still hadn’t gotten used to it, either. How his mother could stand looking at it every day was a mystery to him.

'Mother, I have news.' He stood in front of the antique oak desk that was covered in stacks of parchment. Yet another ghastly clash of features within the room, a relic of the past that his mother had deemed acceptable within her decorating favour, 'I got the promotion at work. I am now the head Potions Master of three divisions.'

He refrained from grinning widely as he shared the news and waited for her response. His father had instilled in him at a very young age that to show how pleased one was was a sign of weakness and arrogance, and a Malfoy had to remain respected and well-behaved, no matter the situation. That was just one of the many things Draco could not get rid of, no matter how hard he tried. A small, humble smile was acceptable, anything else was to be avoided.

'Anything else?' Narcissa hadn't even looked up from her papers she was so intently going over on the desk.

Draco felt the smile fall off his face. 

'What?' Had he understood her wrong?

She sniffed slightly, shuffling one sheet of cream parchment over another, 'I said, _anything else?'_

He stared in silence, the statement shocking him. 

'Can't you just be proud of me for once?' he whispered.

She hummed softly, still focussed on her work, 'Did you say something?'

He shuddered with effort to not start shouting or causing a scene. He no longer knew this woman in front of him, she was no longer his mother who would support him and be proud of his accomplishments. No, she was no better than his father now. She only cared about herself and her money, just like he had.

He stared around the room, taking it in for what he knew would be the final time.

The oak desk was the only thing of grandeur in what had once been an ancestral home full of riches.

The rest of the manor he had walked through to get here had been in disarray. All in need of repair, polishing and tidying.

No longer did it feel like his childhood home but an antique shop whose owners didn’t care to do anything with it anymore, their love for it long gone.

He looked once more at the walls. The peach colour, unbecoming and unknown to him why it had been her first colour choice. He could see spots where the walls hadn't been primed and had been painted directly over. The once lovely green now looked like a mottled bruise. He felt sick to the stomach. She didn’t deserve this manor.

But it was fitting to some extent, wasn’t it? A metaphor for her - once a sweet peach but even they started to rot on the inside although they might still look edible on first glance. Just like her mother - she looked the same but had nothing in common with the woman he loved and held dearly to his heart.

He didn't bother to say goodbye. He turned around and left; left the peach rot walls, the woodworm furniture, the layers of dust and dirt that seemed to be everywhere. He left it all.

He floo'd back to his flat without looking back. Surprisingly, he didn't feel much anger, only the bitter sting of sadness. He had known this day would come. Even if he hadn't wanted to acknowledge it.

But this was supposed to be his day. _His._ He had worked hard for that promotion and he would be damned if he wasn't going to celebrate something going right for once in his life.

He stared back at the floo. The flames had died down immediately after he had stepped out of them. 

He had friends at work, _real_ friends that some might even say were _family._

He made up his mind.

He didn't need blood relations. They had long since proven themselves to be no family to him. But, _these_ people were his family and families celebrated together!

So before the melancholy could take over his entire being, he pulled out his wand and started the fire again. After throwing in a handful of floo powder, he stepped into the green flames and watched them flicker up his legs. His _real_ family was waiting for him and he couldn’t wait to tell _them_ about his promotion.


End file.
